working of one mind in relation to similarity of physical conditions foreseen and provided for. Hence, to believe in the universe necessitates our believing in one God, who willed it into being; for it is one in general plan and purpose, in short, an universe.

There is a structural unity of plan between the body of man and that of other vertebrates, simply because man has to deal in the body with a physical world. There is an unity of plan--and it would be startling indeed if otherwise-but it is a plan admitting of immense diversities of adaptation, which evince a wondrous wisdom in the planning, a wisdom which man alone can in any degree appreciate; and thus man proves himself not to be classified with brutes, since he can discern the reasonableness both of a general plan and of special adaptations.

The form, movements, attitude, and general expressions of man's body are so exceptional, so superior to any other that stands upon this earth, that inconsiderate persons are astonished when they see a creature like the gorilla with any marked approximation to man's shape. Fancy fills up the outline by the same process as that by which, in the twilight, she converts a bush into a bear. But, in fact, the resemblance and the similarity in bone, body, and action, between a horse and a cow are closer by far than between man in his most degraded form and the gorilla in his finest making-up in the museum. The ape is not constituted humanly in the slightest degree. Look at that picture and then at this. Here is the object of your heart veiling her beauty in her

flowing hair-No; we will not profane humanity by the comparison. It has no tresses, no true skin clothed and defended only with feeling; it is wrapped from its birth in a grisly hide, every hair of which is fit to be worked into a felt, which the hair of man can never be. There is no sweet music in its mind, its muscles, or its movement; no harmony of thought and motion; it has no calf; it could no more dance than it could dandle a baby and sing a lullaby. And as to the intelligence of its countenance, it has neither forehead, nose, nor chin; there is no play of mind upon its features; it cannot talk either with voice or visage, except with defiance to humanity. It can neither stand nor go like man. It can neither laugh nor smile, nor weep, nor blush, nor point, nor nod; it can neither make a tool nor handle one; it can neither kneel nor kick, because it has no occasion to pray nor to recalcitrate; it has nothing mentally to beseech nor to resist; tears are not for such a creature; it knows nothing of pathos; laughter is not there, nor fun, nor folly, nor fellowship. It has no need of the speaking face, nor the true index finger; it has neither the thought nor the feeling that demand their aid, and no more wants to know why than it wants a dictionary. We speak of it, for it is not a person.

As no true anatomist would confound any part of the human body with any similar part of any other body, so neither would he fail to find that the distinctive character of man's organisation arises from its adaptation to reason rather than to instinct. There is not a single organ in man's body subservient merely to in

stinct, while, on the contrary, no part of any mere animal but shows that it is subject to a nature unimprovable, being perfectly fit for its use without training. Man, however, needs training to qualify him for the right use of his body in any of the departments of active life to which he may devote himself. The very limbs must get imbued with the learning required for the conduct of any handicraft, business, or profession; and none of man's duties can be performed, and none of his real or rational wants can be satisfied without instruction. As he alone is conscious of duties, so he alone is empowered by rational mind to fulfil them. There is even no direct adaptation between his bodily powers and the food he needs. He cannot seize it by tooth nor by nail; he must invent instruments to strike down his prey and to raise his corn. He would be the most impotent and destitute of creatures without the reason that kindles fire, contrives and fabricates; nature offers to his hand all he requires to reign supreme, but is utterly against him if that hand be not energised by an intellect to devise, and a will to work, in obedience to his wants and to the wisdom that made him dependent on his mind. In short, animals find their perfection and enjoyment in their bodily adaptation to their habitat, while man has no place or power of enjoyment unless he make it. Each race of animals lives in narrow limits, bound to an especial habitat: man inhabits the whole round world. Where life is he is: his reason clothes him, feeds him, defends him, fulfils him. It is reason that animates his heart and gives his heart a home,

because he can love as well as like, and feel the touch of kindred and of friendship both with God and man, therefore earth cannot hold him, and heaven is not too great for him. All this is truism, but it need be reiterated, since men, narrowed by false science, would fix man's place in nature, and forget that he is supernatural, for he can pervert nature, and in will and work resist the teachings of his Maker, and turn the means of good into causes of evil, perhaps for ever.

Man, then, stands apart from animals in body and in reason: that is, in action, faith, intellect, thought, moral feeling, personal habit, social relation, religious life. He, when taught, conceives the qualities of things and infers, even from his own attributes, the attributes of God. The whole ground on which we estimate the difference in mental and moral character between man and man is that which stands altogether between man and mere animals; for who but dreamers would talk of chimpanzees with enlightened consciences, gorillas of fine genius, or monkeys of good morals?

Thought makes the man, and, wanting that, the ape
Looks more inhuman in his human shape;

But thou, O man! a man shalt never see
Till in thyself thou see Divinity.

103

CHAPTER IX.

SPEECH.

HAVE we too boldly assumed and asserted that man is high above all comparison with brutes in his ideation, his feelings, and his thinking? We are likely to be told this is only from our pride and our ignorance, for animals cannot speak and so cannot inform us what they feel and think; not like some men, they do not speak because they have nothing to say. We have, however, heard of one ass at least that was dumb until he had something to say to the purpose, and then he spoke with angel's voice and in a manner to teach a man and a prophet. And, doubtless, if animals possessed ideas communicable in articulate language, they would not remain unprovided with the means of expressing them. In fact, none of the voices in the world are without significance to a philosophic mind; and we need not resort to Æsop's fables to learn morals of brutes if we have the spirit rightly to listen and interpret. Nevertheless, the possession of articulate speech is the grand distinctive character of man.'*

* Cuvier; and Huxley's Man's Place, &c., p. 103.